To Feel Again
by BamaGirl03
Summary: Ten years after the death of her mother, Chichi still suffers from terrible guilt. But when she forced into the ring with Kakarott, a student from a rival school, he promptly turns her world upside down. With secrets and devastation lurking in his own past, Chichi and Kakarott seek solace in one another. AU, some high school Kakarott/Chichi with some Vegeta/Bulma in later chapters.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer-I don't own DBZ or any of its characters.**

**Prologue**

Chichi stared into Kakarott's disbelieving face. Frieza's pronged fingers gripped the back of his neck, pushed him to his knees and grabbed a fistful of that onyx hair that she loved so much. He made him watch as two soldiers strapped her to the pyre. She wasn't sure why Frieza felt the need to use two men for this. She would have gladly tied herself to it. She could only assume that he wanted her to be in more pain the absolutely necessary. Her body was already beaten and bruised and the soldiers seemed to be going out of their way to ensure they gripped and ripped at her wounds.

"This is your last chance, little monkey," Frieza hissed. "Tell me how they work right now, or watch your woman burn."

The muscle in Kakarott's cheek twitched and his eyes left hers just long enough to search the crimson skies. He looked to be looking for an answer. Chichi found herself grateful once again that she never got around to telling him the secret to summoning the dragon. Even if he told the tyrant everything, nothing would change. Frieza would wish for immortality and then kill them anyway.

"It's okay, Kakarott. Really. I prefer it this way." Her voice held a soothing quality in it, which contrasted with the way the two soldiers jerked her arms behind her and slammed her wrist together. The taller of the two bound them with a rope of ki before stepping down to observe his handiwork.

"How touching," Frieza drawled with a roll of his eye.

Out of the corner of her eye, Chichi saw Bulma lurch forward. She looked like she was about to tell him everything, but Vegeta caught her by the upper arm. She looked back at him and he shook her head. _That's right_, Chichi thought_. Keep her silent, Vegeta._

For a brief moment she allowed herself to scan the faces of the Saiyans she'd grown to love like family. She didn't know what the afterlife would hold for her or if they would joining her soon, so she wanted to at least be cable to carry them with her in memory. There was the patriarch- King Vegeta-, Nappa, Bardock, Radditz, Prince Vegeta and…. Kakarott.

"You monkeys never cease to amaze me," Frieza sneered. "Perhaps this will be more persuading," he said, pointing one of his well-groomed fingers directly at her the small bump in her stomach. She could feel his ki gathering at the tip of his nail and swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. Part of her wanted to be grateful—grateful that the miracle she and Kakarott had made would have a quick death. She hated the idea of her unborn baby burning along with her. She hated that he had to die at all. She would gladly give her own life a hundred times over if it meant that their little Gohan could live.

Bulma sobbed and buried her head in Vegeta's shoulder. Bardock and Radditz were grinding their teeth and clenching their fists while Nappa and King Vegeta looked angry enough to spit fire. Kakorott gave another feeble attempt to tear out of Frieza's grip, but he was too weakened from his previous beatings to get very far.

Frieza's cruel laughter echoed throughout the empty planet as tears began to stream down Chichi's face. He assumed she was crying out of fear. He didn't realize the truth. He didn't realize that his maniacal actions had given her a revelation. Ten years' worth of guilt was suddenly lifted off of her shoulders as full understanding of a mother's love donned on her. For so long she had blamed herself for her own mother's death. It never occurred to her until now that her mother was happy to do it.

A small, yet lethal ki now gleamed at the tip of Frieza's finger. His laughter had stopped without her noticing and had been replaced by a bone chilling glare. He seemed to finally understand the situation. No one was going to tell him how to work the dragon balls. They would die before watching him get his wish. "This is your last chance, bitch. Tell me now, or die."

She fought the urge to smile. Ironic, she thought, that she would die now, just as she was finally learning to feel again.

Kakarott's muscles bunched, preparing for another wasted attempt to help her. She smiled down at him, communicating with a simple expression to save his strength. His body stilled as he stared back at her. The look of hopelessness that filled his face was absolutely heartbreaking. She hated to see him like that when he was normally so full of life.

"Kakarott," she whispered, "I love you."

The guards on either side of her lit the pyre at the same moment Frieza fired the ki. She never looked away from Kakarott.

And in the heat of the moment, she could have sworn his eyes turned blue.

_**Author's Note:**_

I had the idea for this fic a couple of days ago and couldn't get it out of my head. If you're following my other fic, Superior, don't worry… I haven't given up on it.

Anywho—this was the prologue… in chapter one we're going to go back a ways to see how all of this began and then build our way back up to this moment. It isn't as planned out as I normally prefer… but I think it will be fun to write. While this is mainly Kakarott/Chichi, there will be a good bit of Vegeta/Bulma in the later chapters. Let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One—The Promise

_"Promise me, Chichi. Promise me that you'll at least try." _

This was the promise that Chichi had reluctantly made the night before—that she would try to be happy. Normally, she would have shrugged her way out of such a ridiculous plea, but her father had finally broken out the big guns—tears. After receiving (what she deemed to be an over-exaggerated) letter from her school and being told on by the servants, the Ox King confronted Chichi about her lack of interest in… well… everything. He fretted over her, tossing out words like "Depression" and "Psychiatrist" and even things like, "All my fault" and "Failed as a parent." There was just something about seeing that mountain of a man crying that made her stomach lurch. So, in her haste to escape the whole, uncomfortable situation, she agreed to try harder.

It had been weeks since she'd woken up early enough to see the sun rise, but there it was, peeking over the mountains outside her window. She frowned at it, using her hand to block the harsh rays that spilled inside of the room.

"Get up, sleepy head!" the maid chirped, pulling the curtains aside on a second window, allowing more of the offending light in.

Chichi groaned and buried her face into her pillow. "Don't you get tired of being so chipper all the time, Launch?"

"Don't you get tired of being so sullen all the time?" the maid countered. "Which reminds me, don't forget that you promised-"

"Yes, yes, I know," Chichi said. She threw the covers off of her with a huff and slid to the end of the bed. She cringed when her toes hit the freezing hardwood floor, but took the chill in stride as she got up. After a quick stretch, she slumped into the adjoining bathroom and peeled off her tank top and boy shorts, kicked them aside and turned on the shower.

She had barely slipped under the stream before Launch let herself in and placed a freshly laundered school uniform on the vanity. "Your dad's still here." She said through the fogged glass. "He wants to see you off before he heads out."

That was surprising news. Her father was hardly ever home. As one of the last remaining authentic kings, he was kept busy. He didn't have royal affairs to tend to like in the old days, though. Now he was more of a celebrity than anything. His publicist kept him booked with appearances and talk shows. It was a waste in Chichi's opinion. Her father had once been a great man and a fierce fighter. Now he was little more than a talking puppet, spewing out words that someone else wrote for him and letting strangers pull his strings. Pathetic. The only aspect of his life that he put his foot down on was her. He'd made it perfectly clear that she was off limits to everyone. Even the paparazzi didn't dare try to snap a picture of her out of fear of the Ox King's wrath.

She took her time in the shower, washing leisurely through her inky locks and scrubbing her sculpted body. She shaved twice and even brushed her teeth under the stream. When a speck of tooth paste hit her stomach she used that as a justifiable excuse to wash again. All of this was in an attempt to eat away at time. She'd hoped that by taking so long her dad would be forced to leave for his meetings, but when she finally made it into the kitchen a little over an hour later, he was still there, holding a plate and grinning broadly at her.

"There she is!" he said and shoved a plate into her hands. "Since you took so long, I had time to cook for you! I made your favorite!"

She glanced down at the plate and froze. Her breath caught in her throat and it took all the strength in her body to resist the urge to throw the plate across the room and stomp out.

"Mmmm," she said weakly. Chocolate chip, Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes stared back up at her. It was true… these were her favorite. But that was ten years ago, when her mom used to make them for her. Her mom. The most beautiful woman to have ever walked the planet. She was kind and caring and…. Dead…. Dead because of her. "You shouldn't have," she said, keeping her head down to hide her disgust.

"It was nothing," the Ox King grinned. "I have to go now. Have a good first day back," he said, pacing a scratchy kiss on her head.

She waited until she heard his car rumble down the drive, then passed the plate to Launch. "Get rid of these."

"Would you like me to make you something else?" Launch asked.

"No. I've lost my appetite. I'm just going to go."

Chichi had to admit that she had missed a lot of school lately. She just got to the point that she couldn't muster the energy to care about going. She didn't care about her slipping grades. She didn't care that her classmates were making up outrageous rumors as to why she had disappeared—it wasn't like she was friends with them anyway. But that didn't stop her from gaping up at the building as the car slowed to a stop in front of it. Hardly anyone was wearing their uniforms. Instead they were all in various types of athletic wear. Not to mention there were so many more students than she remembered. Not one or two… but hundreds. It looked like there were too many to be allowed. Surely this was breaking some fire code? An unwelcome shiver ran up her spine at the thought.

"Did I miss something?" she asked.

She hadn't been expecting an answer, so when her driver responded she was caught off guard. "Spirit week," he said. "The students have been dressing up all week and getting prepared for this."

She arched a brow at him, "All week? Oh, that's right. It's already Friday isn't it?" If she had realized that sooner she would have coerced her way into coming back next week. "And how do you know about Spirit week?"

The driver pointed to a small photo taped to the dashboard. In it, he was sitting in a chair surrounded by a woman who looked to be his wife, a blond girl about Chichi's age and a set of twin boys. "My daughter is one of your classmates."

"Oh." She looked down at her nails, feeling slightly embarrassed. Had that picture always been there? She never noticed. Still, she didn't pay enough attention at school to recognize the girl in the photo, so it shouldn't have mattered anyway. "So… what's the big event? Why is it so crowded?"

"It's a field day," he said, looking out the window at the massive crowd. "In addition to your usual student body, your rival school has been invited to compete against you all in various activities. You know, track, field and all that. My little Olivia is competing in the relay race."

"Rival school? We have a rival?"

Now it was the driver who arched a brow. "Every school has a rival. Yours is West High. Makes sense, don't you think? Since you go to East High."

This was getting to be too much. She didn't like the look her driver gave her. She thought about snapping at him and telling him how creepy it was that he knew so much about high school affairs, but she stopped herself. She supposed it wasn't so abnormal that he would know. His daughter was a student, after all. It probably just seemed weird to her because this was something that her own father would never know about. He wasn't around enough to know. Instead, she grabbed her bag and slid out of the car.

After struggling through the swarm of students, she made it to her homeroom class, where she was met with an unusual welcome.

"Oh thank God!" a blond girl she now knew to be Olivia gasped. She ran up and threw her arms around Chichi's neck. "We were in such a jamb!" she gushed, pulling Chichi along with her. All of her classmates wore the same relieved expression as Olivia. A few of them even patted her on the back as she was dragged past. "It's been awful Chi!"

"Chi?" She cocked her head at Olivia. She was positive this was the first time they'd ever spoken. Why was she already coming up with lame nicknames?

Olivia didn't seem to hear her though, because she continued to prattle on as they reached the instructors desk. "Marcus broke his arm last night—doing something stupid no doubt! We were about to have to forfeit the match!" She snatched a red ink pen right out of their teacher's hand and crossed off Marcus' name on the sign up sheet that everyone was gathered around. Beside it, she wrote Chichi's name in neat, swirling letters. "This may actually work out better," she said happily. "Didn't you train under Maters Roshi?"

"That was years ago," Chichi muttered, scanning over the sheet. She noticed that the whole class had signed it, their names mixed in with those of the rest of the student body under various activities. She found hers under the heading "MMA-SPARRING".

"Mixed Martial Arts?" She asked, pinning both Olivia and their instructor with a glare.

Mr. Montgomery swallowed and became very interested in the pattern etched into his desk, but Oliva stood unphased. "Yup! Marcus was supposed to do it, but… I mean… he can't do much with a broken arm, right? Besides, with your skills we probably would have asked him to step down anyway." Her grin faded and a competitive air overtook her. "We have to win, Chichi. That cheating piece of slime, Yamcha is one of the fighters for West High. If nothing else, you need to promise me you'll take him down."

Chichi strongly suspected that Olivia had a history with this Yamcha fellow. "That's… well…. That's something," she stammered. "But I can't fight. I didn't know any of this was happening. I didn't bring anything to wear."

"I've got you covered!" Olivia beamed. "Besides, you don't have a choice. Everyone has to participate and this is the only opening left."

Her mind floundered around, grasping for another excuse. But she stopped suddenly when the image of her beaming father invaded her thoughts. She had promised him that she would try, and that driver was sure to tell on her if Olivia squealed about her not participating. So, thirty minutes later Chichi found herself stuck in the girl's locker room with Olivia tossing some clothes at her. She tugged on a pair of red capris sweat pants and black tank top, then pulled her hair into a tight ponytail.

"Sorry I don't have any shoes," Olivia said. "Who knew you'd have such tiny feet?"

"It's alright," Chichi sighed, tucking her uniform into a vacant locker. "I hardly ever sparred with shoes on anyway."

"I bet that was scary, huh? Fighting against the legendary Master Roshi?"

She snorted. "The only thing scary about him is how perverted he is."

"Seriously?" Olivia gasped, following Chichi out of the locker room. "Maybe that was just with you," she said, suddenly sounding a little crestfallen. "Not to sound weird or anything, but I am completely jealous that your butt looks better in my pants than mine does."

They were right outside of the gym now, and from the sounds of it, everyone else was inside. She could hear the roar of the students pressing against her skull as she walked in, felt their eyes follow her as she crossed the court to stand with her two teammates. She was relieved and surprised to find that she recognized them both. The shorter one was a guy named Krillin. They used to hang out when they were kids. He trained with Master Roshi as well. He may not look it, but he could certainly hold his own. The other guy was a bumbling buffoon. He strutted around the school flexing his muscles and referring to himself as "The Champ" all the time. In reality he was nothing more than a weakling, but no one worth their salt in fighting wanted to waste time sparring with him. What was his name again? Harold? No… Hercule. That was it. Hercule Satan.

Krillin caught her eye and shook his head. Apparently he wasn't thrilled about having Hercule as a teammate either. "Those guys look pretty tough," he said. "You recognize any of them?"

She glanced to the other side of the mat, where three of West High's fighters stood. They all looked sharp and borderline intimidating in their matching uniforms. Whereas her team wore whatever they had on hand, these guys were all dressed in the same black shorts and tee shirts. They even had matching tennis shoes.

Yamcha was easy to pick out. He was leaning against the railing talking to a couple of the girls in the stands. He didn't look like such a lady killer to her, especially not with those scars marring his face, but he could have been a smooth talker for all she knew. The other two looked far more menacing. One was about the same height as her, maybe an inch or two taller, with flame-like hair and an impressive scowl. He stood with his large arms crossed over his chest and looked less thrilled about being there than she did—and that was saying something. The other towered over her, with the same muscular build as the other guy, hair that jutted out in every direction and laughing black eyes. She groaned and shot a prayer up to whoever might be listening that she didn't have to fight him. She knew his type. He was one of those "live for the moment", "just have fun", "life is an adventure" guys.

"No, I've never seen them before, but Olivia tells me that one's a real piece of work," she said, nodding to Yamcha.

Krillin choked down a chuckle. "I bet she did. That's Yamcha. I actually know him pretty well. He's a good guy. He just doesn't realize when he's coming off as flirty. Olivia thought he had feelings for her when he really didn't. I guess she's still bitter about it."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Chichi snapped. "You can't honestly expect me to believe that someone doesn't realize when they're flirting. You've been hanging around Master Roshi too long."

"Oh well…" Krillin rubbed the back of neck sheepishly. "Maybe not… Oh look!" he said, seemingly grateful for the chance to change the subject. "Here comes the announcers."

The announcers turned out to be a representative from each school. The one for East High was the gym teacher, Coach Spencer, and the one from West High was living nightmare of a man called Nappa. He was apparently a fairly new hire for them and so large that she had to crane her neck to see his face.

"This is how this is going to work," Nappa said bluntly. "Each fighter will draw a number. The fighter for the other team with your matching number will be your opponent. Whichever school has the most wins out of the three matches, wins the event."

Coach Spender came to them and they each pulled a folded paper out of a bag.

"Ugh!" Krillin groaned. "Of course I would have to fight first." He held up his paper with a large number one printed on it.

Yamcha smirked at him from across the mat and held up his paper, which also had a one on it.

"I'm second!" Hercule declared, holding up his number two in one hand and a victory symbol with the other. The students from East High erupted into applause and despite Chichi's prayer, the shorter grumpy looking guy held up his own paper, wordlessly showing a two to the crowd. Which meant…

The happy guy beamed at her and held up his piece, showing her a three. She grimaced and held up her own three.

"That settles it," Nappa said. "Yamcha will face Krillin in the first match. Vegeta will fight Hercule, and then Kakarot will fight Chichi."

Kakarot, Chichi thought. That certainly was an unusual name. Following the other fighter's leads, she walked to the center of the mat to shake her opponent's hand. Up close, Kakarot was much larger than she realized. She held her hand out and he covered it with both of his, pulling her closer to him than she was comfortable with.

"Don't worry," he whispered, placing his mouth close to her ear and keeping that brilliant smile in place. "I'll take it easy on you."

Chichi gasped as she felt a swell of anger rise up inside of her. What? Did he think that she couldn't take care of herself? Was this some macho, knight in shining armor act trying to spare the swooning damsel? Or did he simply think that girls had no fighting skills? She scowled up at him, tightening her grip on his massive hands, and pushed a small charge of ki down her arm and into her palm. She released it, setting it off like an electric shock against his skin. "Don't bother."

Kakarot jerked his hand away and sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. All traces of his jovial expression had vanished when he looked at her again, replaced by shock and something close to interest. "You know how to manipulate ki?" he asked. The other four fighters were listening at this point. Yamcha looked impressed, Vegeta looked irritated, Krillin didn't look surprised (he already knew what she was capable of) and Hercule looked confused ("What's a ki?").

"Can she really?" Vegeta asked. He shot an irritated glance to Hercule and then said, "Kakarot! Switch numbers with me."

Kakarot grinned, keeping his eyes fixed on her. "Sorry, Vegeta. You heard the rules. This one's all mine."

She wasn't sure how she felt about the way he looked at her now. He seemed to be looking past the surface and into her very core. Even though his friendly grin had returned, she couldn't help but feel a little threatened, like the prey in the eyes of its stalker.

As the other teams turned to clear the mat, she and Kakarot both chose to back away, each refusing to be the first to break eye contact. She didn't like the way he continued to grin at her. It wasn't an open threat… but it did push her just outside of her comfort zone.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE-**-

Hope you all enjoyed Chapter One. J Thanks so much to everyone who commented. I truly enjoyed reading through them all and I am thrilled that you liked the prologue.


End file.
